So the Heart Can Dance (A Hidden Beauty Novel Book 2)

by Mary Crawford

  Some administrative assistant who’s been following Clover around knocks softly on the office door. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have the paperwork you requested, Ms. Branch.”

  “Oh good! Your revised contract is here,” Clover says as she dismisses the office worker. “Are you ready to sign?”

  I shrug and try to appear nonchalant. I don’t want her to realize that this is probably the single most exciting day of my life. I take a moment to read the changes then I pick up a pen and sign on the proverbial dotted line. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” With a few strokes of the pen, my life may never be the same.

  “Very good. Do you have a song picked out?” Clover asks.

  “I’ve narrowed it down to a couple. Do I need to decide right now?” I ask.

  “No, not at all,” she replies. “The only person you need to talk to about songs is Lewis, because he’s the head honcho for all of those departments. I just want to know because I’m randomly curious.”

  I grin. “You’ll find out just like everybody else. I’ll see you at 9 o’clock tonight.”

  Clover rolls her eyes at me. “You are so lucky that I’m not on the judging panel this time.”

  I’m not sure if it’s a punishment or reward, but I was placed last in the singing order. This could be disastrous, since I’m sure the judges are tired. I’m pacing backstage, just waiting for my turn to finally arrive. After watching me for a while, Tara takes my hand and leads me to a cluster of chairs tucked away in a back corner.

  She steps in front of me to help keep our conversation private and signs, “Aidan, please stop and take a deep breath. Trust me when I say, you’ve got this in the bag. I’ve been listening to people sing for three and half hours. There are only about four good artists in the group, and none of them are as good as you.”

  “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” I ask as I rake my hand through my hair. I grimace as I touch my hair and find it caked with hair product. “Yuck! Why do I have to wear all this crap? It’s a singing contest. I’m not trying out to be a Ford model.”

  Tara giggles and teases, “What? You don’t like the makeup? I think it looks very fetching. It brings out the green in your eyes.”

  “Gracie, you are so not helping. Thanks for reminding me that I look like a Cover Girl model. Rory is going to laugh his ass off when he sees me in mascara.”

  “It’s all part of the game. Just look at it like it’s part of your costume for the show. It’s supposed to make you look better on TV, and that’s the point, isn’t it? You want to attract as many viewers as possible,” she suggests.

  “I guess …”

  “You’ve helped me get ready for countless performances,” Tara says with a big grin. “Now it’s my turn to return the favor. So, buck up and put your big boy panties on. It’s time to put on the show of your life.”

  “That’s what has me worried. What if it’s the show of my life, and I blow it?”

  Tara shakes her head and pokes me in the chest to emphasize what she’s saying, “First of all, you’re too much of a professional to blow it. Secondly, even if you do, I’ll always be your biggest fan.”

  I know Tara is only supposed to be the interpreter right now, but I quickly give her a hug and kiss the top of her head.

  “Thanks Gracie, I needed that. Your faith in me means everything,” I murmur against her hair.

  A production assistant approaches and announces, “You’re up, buddy. Knock ‘em dead.”

  Tara squeezes my hand as I walk away. I take a deep breath and stroll onto the stage with confidence I’m not sure I actually feel. There’s something to be said, though, for the “fake it ’til you make it” school of thought.

  As I sit at the piano, I seek out Tara’s face in the crowd. She’s sitting near the front with her hands in a prayer-like position. I have been struggling with my song choices all day, but as I consider my relationship with Tara, I settle on the perfect choice. Beginning to play Elton John’s Candle in the Wind, I let go of all of the stress of the week and focus only on Tara. In the blink of an eye, my song is over. It takes me a moment to come back to reality and look around. I must have done okay, since the judges and audience are on their feet, clapping wildly. It’s a surreal moment. My whole life I’ve wanted this hype, but the one person I want to impress the most seems frozen in her seat, with tears streaming down her face. Staying on stage is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I want to check on Tara, but I know that she would hate it if I blew this moment just to help her.

  Just when I’m about to throw in the towel and check on her—despite the consequences—she raises her eyes to look at me. Her eyes are teary, but she has a smile on her face as she signs, “Beautifully perfect.”

  I feel like all of the oxygen has rushed back into the room, and I can breathe again. The judges are interviewing me about my performance. I hope that I’m giving socially acceptable answers, but I’m in a daze. I have no idea what they’re asking. When they’ve finished interviewing and providing feedback, I gingerly walk backstage. My body is on adrenaline overload, and I’m as wobbly as a baby giraffe. I go to the backstage area I now consider ‘ours.’ I sit down and I’m starting to guzzle a bottle of water when I see that Tara has entered the backstage area.

  As soon as I stand up to welcome her, she runs at me in a dead sprint. To avoid a painful collision, if nothing else, I pick her up and swing her around in my arms. She drops her head back and laughs with joy. When I set her down on her feet, she exclaims, “Aidan, that’s the best I’ve ever heard you play the piano, and your singing was amazing. You nailed it. I’m so proud of you!”

  “Umm … thanks,” I stammer. “Whenever I hear that song, I think of you and how your talent was extinguished at far too young an age.”

  “I don’t know, I think the song works for you too. You’re the one who’s hidden his talent far too long. If I could sing half as well as you do I would be advertising it on a sandwich board in the middle of Main Street. But. I don’t think I’m as gifted as you.”

  “If it gets too bad, I can turn off my receivers,” I jest.

  “If you’ve ever heard me sing, you wouldn’t call that an extreme precaution,” she says. “But I need to talk to you about something else that’s a little more critical than my singing skills...”

  Watching Aidan sing makes me break out in goose bumps. His sense of musical timing and emotion are incredible. He doesn’t belt out the song like a Broadway singer, but his voice is powerful in its own quiet way. After he finishes his song, I look around the audience and everyone seems as transfixed as I was. The judges absolutely love it.

  I want to turn all fan-girl on him, but unfortunately it’s time to step back into my professional role. So I have to settle for a subdued hug.

  “Aidan, they want all the contestants to wait in a special social media lounge. I don’t know what the environment is going to be like in there. If I interpret for you, there won’t be any disguising the fact that you’re deaf,” I explain, reflexively using sign language. Once I get into the groove of using sign language, I often forget to stop, even though I know Aidan has his receivers turned on.

  A frown passes over his face as he considers the implications of what I’ve told him. Then, he just shrugs and says, “I guess everyone’s going to find out anyway. Maybe it’s better that everyone knows sooner rather than later.”

  “Aidan, there’s one more thing. If it’s the social media room, there are likely to be cameras and live feeds. Do you want to do all this on camera?” I ask with trepidation.

  “Well, I hope nobody’s a jerk about it, then.” Aidan quips. “Because that would just be bad PR.”

  We walk into a large lounge with computer screens and couches strewn throughout. There is also a buffet of sorts. It’s awkward in a way. Aidan was the last to sing, so he’s also the last contestant to reach the lounge. Some contestants have been sitting here for almost four hours and seem to have developed friends
hips. Before we walked in, I could hear conversation buzzing from clear out in the hall, but once Aidan steps foot in the room, it becomes eerily silent.

  The atmosphere is immediately tense as another contestant calls out, “Hey! They said I couldn’t bring my girlfriend. How come you can bring yours?”

  “I’m his interpreter,” I explain.

  A young girl pipes up, “You mean he can’t speak English?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m an interpreter for the deaf.”

  The first contestant smirks and looks directly at Aidan, “There isn’t nobody here that’s deaf. You all are just scamming the system so she can be here.”

  I raise an eyebrow at Aidan silently asking him who should address the issue this time. He subtly points to himself.

  “Actually, I am totally deaf. I use cochlear implants to help me.” Aidan informs him. “But sometimes, in loud, unfamiliar environments, they don’t function as well as I’d like. Tara is here to help me get acclimated to the environment. After I’ve been here for a while, I will know where it’s easiest for me to hear.”

  The young girl looks completely fascinated as she asks, “So, how do you hear now? You’re talking to us just fine.”

  “Thank you.” Aidan responds. “I’ve worked really hard on my speech. It wasn’t always this clear. I can hear because I had a cochlear implant placed in my ear to simulate sound. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than not being able to communicate with everyone.”

  “Does it hurt?” The young girl asks.

  “I was a little sore when they put them in, but now they don’t bother me,” Aidan replies, smiling at the girl’s curiosity.

  Another contestant says, “That’s amazing. I’ve never heard of a deaf person singing.”

  The contestant who originally confronted Aidan argues bitterly, “I don’t buy it. You’re cheating somehow.”

  Aidan turns to the contestant beside him and asks him, “Do you mind if I borrow your guitar?”

  “No, go right ahead. I trust you know what to do with it,” he says with a smile.

  Aidan turns to the one naysayer in the group. “What would you like to hear?”

  The young girl’s eyes widen. “Just like that? You don’t have to learn the song, first?”

  Avon laughs softly as he answers, “Well, I guess it depends on what he requests.”

  The guy Aidan challenged narrows his eyes and says, “I’m gonna make it really tough on you and pick a song from before you were born.”

  Aidan grins. “Go ahead. I love a good challenge.”

  “Okay, I’ve decided,” the other contestant says with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I want you to sing Rocky Mountain High.”

  Aidan smiles and he says, “Great choice. I love John Denver.” He picks up the guitar and starts to strum, tapping his foot with the rhythm. Softly, he starts to sing. The other contestants appear to be riveted.

  When he finishes, the guy with the smart mouth counters, “I don’t know, maybe he’s from Colorado or something? I have no idea how he did that.”

  The young girl exclaims, “That’s just too cool! Do you know other stuff too? Like modern stuff?”

  Aidan shrugs nonchalantly as he retorts, “I know all sorts of songs. What would you like to hear?”

  “I know, I know!” she says excitedly. “I bet you don’t know the A-List.”

  “Well, you’d lose that bet, if you were old enough to gamble. I happen to love Ed Sheeran,” Aidan says as he changes positions so he can play the guitar more easily.

  I’ve heard Aidan sing and play guitar many times now, but just when I think he can’t surprise me, he does. Watching him play, it’s as if he feels the music the way I used to as a dancer. It appears that the music, even if they’re not his words, comes straight from his soul. Playing a mini concert for the other contestants, he’s so lost in the magic of the song that he doesn’t seem to notice that they’re there. The song is tragically beautiful and haunting at the same time. He seems able to convey the emotion of the song without seeming cheesy.

  When he finishes, he seems embarrassed when the other contestants give him a rousing round of applause. An older women contestant sitting in the corner mutters, “Geez, you’re so good, I should probably save myself the trouble and drop out right now.”

  The young girl comments, “That was just amaze-balls. Can I get an autographed copy of your CD when you win?”

  Aidan chuckles, “Let’s not jump the gun. Singing for you guys on the couch is totally different from singing on that stage. I may not even make it through the first round.”

  The guy who challenged Aidan deafness says, “Buddy, if you don’t make it past the first round, you’re not the only person with a hearing problem. The judges would be crazy not to send you through.”

  Aidan blushes. “Thank you, I appreciate the compliment. Have I satisfied all of you that this is not a gimmick? I’ve worked hard like all the rest of you. I want this to be a fair competition, on an even playing field.”

  His challenger smirks. “With your talent, I doubt that the playing field is very even. I think you’re going to blow us all away.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to walk away with it that easily,” Aidan argues. “I’ve never worked with TV staging, cameras or anything. Some of you guys have probably done that and will have a leg up on me.”

  Clover and her assistant come into the room and Clover announces, “All right guys. We have the results of the first round of eliminations. Please come back to the stage to get your results.”

  I want so much to go to Aidan and hold his hand when he gets the news. But I know, to maintain credibility, I have to behave professionally.

  Everyone shuffles up on stage. They have a bleacher section for the contestants to sit on. On the other side of the stage, there’s a smaller section currently empty and roped off.

  The host of the show arranges the contestants in lines with no explanation. After quite a bit of meaningless chatter and promotions, he tells the people standing in the other line to sit down and instructs Aidan’s line to go sit in the new set of bleachers.

  My heart rate speeds up because it looks like Aidan has made the cut. I knew that he would. But seeing it unfold in front of me live is surreal. I suppose it’s the way parents feel when their kids do well at a recital or sporting event. At this point, I’m not beyond telepathically wishing Aidan is in the winning group. I’m just about to collapse from anticipation, and I’m sitting on the edge of my seat when they finally announce the names.

  Yes! Aidan is through to the next round! I am a little bit dizzy. I don’t know if it’s the situation or the fact that I skipped breakfast. Aidan notices my paleness, I guess, and comes over to see if I’m okay. I assure him I’m fine, I just need some juice to drink. While he finds food for me, I formally introduce myself to the contestants.

  I hear someone calling Aidan’s name. I hurry to alert him because he hasn’t noticed. I tap him on the shoulder and sign, “AJ, listen! They want to talk to you.”

  The voice paging him was none other than Clover Branch. It turns out that she is trying to page him so that he can attend the contestants meeting.

  After the meeting, Aidan was very upset. “Come on, Tara we need to get back to the hotel. I have lots of work to do,” he announces angrily in a staccato tone. He tersely waves goodbye to the other contestants on his way out.

  “Doesn’t he want to go celebrate with pizza and beer?” A friendly contestant asks.

  Aidan shakes his head. “No thank you. I’m pretty tired. It’s been a long week for me. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  When we get back to our hotel room, I ask him, “So, what happened in the meeting that has you breathing fire?”

  Aidan takes a deep breath and explains, “I don’t know if I just didn’t understand the arrangement before I came, or if they’re changing things. When I first signed up, it was my understanding we would do about three days of filming and then we would need o
ne more visit before the live competition starts.”

  “So what’s the problem?” I ask, not understanding what he’s getting at.

  Aidan grits his teeth as he says, “If I was singing, it wouldn’t be so bad; but they have me booked for two weeks solid on media junkets. It’s crazy. Why can’t we just play our guitars and sing? Why do we have to be a multi-media presence?”

  I feel a knot forming in my stomach. “There’s no way I can stay that long. I’ve got class and a huge project due.”

  “Yeah, I know. I think, as the number of contestants grows smaller, the noise will be less of a problem for me. I can do it by myself if I have to. But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “Aidan, I think we’re on a threshold,” I caution. “I can’t afford to lose my job. It’s not much, but it helps me keep a roof over my head. So, I can’t be here, but I don’t want to abandon you.”

  Aidan walks up behind me and gently turns me around to face him. I look down because I don’t want him to see the disappointment in my eyes. He strokes my cheek until I raise my eyes to meet his intense gaze. “Ah, Gracie, I would never think that,” he assures me. “This isn’t your fault. 5-Star is the one who decided to change the schedule. Of course, I would love to have you here every day. But, I know that’s not how real life works.”

  I take a deep breath and decide that it’s my turn to open up a little. “Aidan, you have no idea how much I wish I could stay,” I confess. “These past few days have been remarkable. You’ve helped me fight the demons I had all but surrendered to and you’ve helped me rediscover who I am. You have made it possible for the two parts of my life to come together. Because of you, I’m starting to feel whole again.”

  I wait anxiously to see his response. It was incredibly difficult for me to admit all that. Feeling this attached to Aidan is terrifying. I can’t help but think about how much my mom lost herself because of her undying love for my dad. Although, now that Aidan has come into my life, I can better understand such all-encompassing love.